


H is for Hunt

by zebraljb



Series: The Alphabet Cycle [8]
Category: Boondock Saints RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-01
Updated: 2012-03-01
Packaged: 2017-10-31 22:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/349111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zebraljb/pseuds/zebraljb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Norman and Sean have an argument, and Norman uses some quotes from famous people to lead Sean back to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	H is for Hunt

**Author's Note:**

> A series of shorts based on one-word prompts.

H IS FOR HUNT  
www.dictionary.com definition: to seek out; search for

 

“Norman, do you think you could run to the grocery store sometime today?” Sean poked his head into the bedroom.

“Mmm,” Norman answered noncommittally, his head buried in his pillow.

“Well, unless you’re happy eating carrots and drinking sour cream for the next few days, you’ll do it,” Sean snapped, disappearing into the closet again.

Norman rolled over and rubbed his eyes. “Okay, Sean, I’ll get there.”

“And the trash in the kitchen? I don’t know if you’ll be able to pick up the bag, it’s so full, but could you take it down?” Sean tugged on his sneakers without even sitting down.

“Um, sure, but since when am I the fucking housekeeper?” Norman asked, then regretted it.

Sean stood up and looked at him. “You’re not, but I figure since you’re home…”

“Yeah, yeah. M’home, m’don’t have any work right now, so I’m Cinderella. Got it.” Norman sat up and stretched.

“Did I even say that, Norman? No. I just assumed that since we share everything here, we shared the chores. I’ll stop and get the dry cleaning on my way home from the set, okay?” Sean yanked his sweatshirt over his head. “I gotta run if I’m going to get a workout in before I’m due to makeup.”

“We do share everything, Sean,” Norman said patiently, watching his lover paw through his gym bag one last time.

“Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?” Norman asked innocently, though he knew full well.

“In that fucking patronizing tone of voice. You’ve been playing the martyr for weeks, and I’m fucking sick of it. If I don’t ask you to do something, you sit around and mope because you don’t have work right now, though you sure as hell aren’t out doing anything about it,” Sean said, letting his bag fall to the floor. “And if I DO ask you to run some errands, or do some work around the house, I’m treating you like a slave.” Norman opened his mouth to reply but Sean ignored him. “Would it make you feel better if I paid you for what you do around here? That way you could say you’re working, and I could get your fucking whiny ass off my back.” He flung his bag over his shoulder. “I’ll be home around seven.” He left the room without looking back, and Norman winced as he heard the front door of the townhouse slam shut.

“Fuck.” Norman fell back onto the pillows, the heel of his hand digging the sleep from his eyes. Sean’s words hurt, but it was the tone in which they were delivered more than the words themselves, because Norman knew Sean was right. Sean had work left and right lately, and Norman had been at home, feeling sorry for himself, and, if he let himself admit it, also feeling incredibly jealous of Sean. He admired his lover’s talent, admired the variety of work that he did, but he still couldn’t help but envy the easy way Sean seemed to get work out of virtually every studio in Hollywood. It wasn’t always the BEST script, true, but it was work.

Norman prided himself on being choosy about his work, and liked the fact that he didn’t just do any old script for the money, but lately he had gotten lazy, and hadn’t really tried to go out and do anything. He enjoyed being home and not having to go DO anything; it gave him time to spend with his son, and also gave him time to paint if he felt like it. But, like Sean had said, he hadn’t been trying to get work, and at the same time acted as if the world owed him a favor. He had been a nagging, selfish bitch, and Sean didn’t deserve that. He looked around the bedroom, noticing that any mess within sight was his, not Sean’s. He also realized, as he sat there alone, that Sean had left without saying I love you, and had also not waited to hear Norman say it in return. That hurt most of all.

Norman got out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom, determined to make it up to Sean starting that very second.

 

Sean immediately wove to the left upon entering the townhouse, accustomed to having to avoid something of Norman’s as soon as he entered the foyer. He almost stumbled over his own feet when he realized that nothing lay on the floor. Nothing except a note, scribbled in his lover’s almost-illegible handwriting. Sean sighed, expecting the usual lame apology for being the one sitting around and making a mess instead of the one out making some money. Therefore, he hung up his jacket and put his gym bag to the side before picking up the piece of notebook paper and unfolding it.

_Sean…I’m a rat bastard and I know it. You’ve done nothing to deserve the bitch I’ve been lately, and starting right now, I’m going to beg you for your forgiveness. Come find me so I can do it in person. Love always, Norman._

Sean looked up, puzzled. Further down the hallway, there was another piece of paper, taped to an end table. He walked a few steps and picked it up.

_Where there is great love, there is always miracles – WILLA CATHER. Sean, I am so lucky to have found you. Your love is truly a miracle in my life, and to my dying day, I will never figure out what the hell I did to get you to love me. I promise every day from now on to give you a reason to keep on loving me. Norman.(PS – I would write cute little clues to get you to find everything, but I’m not that smart. Here’s a map)._

A crude map was drawn on the back of the note, with numbers dotted across the page. Sean grinned, a bit of weight falling from his shoulders as he realized what his lover had taken the day to do.

As he followed the map to the kitchen, he realized that Norman had also taken the time to clean up. The townhouse was spotless, cleaner than Sean had seen it in ages. He blushed a bit as he realized that he was just as messy as Norman, and that he had no right to just expect Norman to clean up simply because he didn’t have work at the moment. A note hung from the entryway to the kitchen like mistletoe, and Sean eagerly reached up to tear it down.

_Trust is the first step to love – MUNSHI PREMCHAND. After everything that happened with Helena, it was so very hard for me to trust again. Especially trusting myself when it came to loving a man, though I knew for years that I was bisexual. You, Sean, made it so damn easy to trust you, and then to fall in love with you. Right where you’re standing is where I was standing when I realized I was in love with you. We were having that deep discussion, remember? You looked up at me, and you were so hurt, because I couldn’t make a fucking decision. That uncertainty, that pain in your eyes…that made the decision for me before I realized I had actually made it. I love you. Norman._

Sean leaned in the doorway for a moment, remembering those days before they had officially decided to become serious as a couple. It had killed him, but he had understood that it was a big step for Norman to take…and they had never looked back after that.

He then moved into the dining room, where a note hung from the lamp above the table. _Love indeed is light from heaven – LORD BYRON. Sean, did you know that when you smile, you not only light up a room, but light up my heart? Norman._

The next number on the map led back into the kitchen, to the pantry door. _Life is the flower for which love is the honey – VICTOR HUGO. You’re definitely the sweetness in my life, Sean. You make me laugh when I want to cry, make me feel like singing when my life is anything but a happy melody. I love you. Norman._

“Fuck, Normy, you’re gonna kill me with these,” Sean said out loud, his throat choked and tight. He then went to the window over the kitchen sink.

_To love and be loved is to feel the sun from both sides – DAVID VISCOTT. You’re definitely my sunshine, Sean. Back to your smile again…I know I said this already, but your smile is so amazing. When you really smile, when it crinkles your eyes…I feel like anything can happen, and that everything is right with the world. Especially when that smile is directed at ME. Lowly Norman._

Sean followed his map into the large living area, where he saw quite a few notes hanging. He also saw that Norman had taken down one of his own paintings that hung over the fireplace, and replaced it with a large photo of the two of them. “Oh, my God,” Sean whispered. He had begged and pleaded for Norman to sit with him for a posed portrait, not just some paparazzi shot of the two of them, and Norman had grudgingly relented. Sean could not get Norman to agree to have it hanging somewhere, and it had been collecting dust in the bedroom closet for weeks. Sean reached up and carefully removed the note from the frame. _To love another person is to see the face of God – VICTOR HUGO. I guess this is sacrilegious, but when I look at you, I do feel like I’m seeing an angel. I guess that sounds kinda girlie, but it’s true. You’re an angel to me, anyway. Your devil, Norman._

Another photo sat on a nearby coffee table, and Sean picked it up, grinning. It was his favorite picture of Norman, one in which Norman was out and out laughing, his beautiful smile stretching from ear to ear. Sean knew exactly what had happened. Sean had given him something silly for his birthday, and Norman had cracked up while looking at Sean in pure delight. _They do not love that do not show their love – WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. I know you like this stupid picture, though I don’t know why. You mentioned something about my smile once; Sean, the only reason I’m smiling like this is because I was so damn happy just being with you. Didn’t matter what you bought for my birthday…you’re the best gift I could ever ask for. Norman._

Sean then walked across the room to the phone stand and picked up the note. _Love without conversation is impossible – MORTIMER J. ADLER. I love the talks we have, Sean. I love how we can argue over the plot of a movie, or talk for hours about a favorite painting, or just discuss an article in the newspaper. Our love is so much more than just sex and emotion…which makes it perfect. Norman._

Sean folded the notes together and carefully laid them on the sofa, then went to find more, eagerly clutching the original map in his hand. He ended up back in the hall, at the closet. He opened it and pawed around until he found a note on his suitcase. _Love is space and time measured by the heart – MARCEL PROUST. I miss you like mad when you’re not here. Absence definitely makes the heart grow fonder. But I know you’ll always come home to me. Norman._

Sean went up the steps to the second floor, itching to go to the bedroom, where he was fairly sure he’d find his lover. He knew, however, that Norman had spent a lot of time and thought on his surprise, and didn’t want to ruin it. Sean went out to the balcony, where a note was taped to the railing. _We love because it’s the only true adventure – NIKKI GIOVANNI. Remember that night we made love out here on this balcony? That was insane…but that’s the sort of thing you get me to do. I don’t even care, because the world could crumble around us and as long as you were inside of me, I wouldn’t even give a damn. Norman._ Sean blushed again, remembering that drunken night.

Sean then headed down to the second bedroom, which served as both a studio for Norman and a tiny office for them both. Taped to one of Norman’s palettes was another note. _Love is a canvas furnished by nature and embroidered by imagination – VOLTAIRE. I’d never have inspiration to paint if it wasn’t for you, Sean. You’re the most gorgeous muse a man could ask for. Norman._ On the other side of the room, where Sean often sat to read while Norman painted, was a note as well. _At the touch of love, everyone becomes a poet – PLATO. I wish you’d write more, Sean. Your words are amazing, like you. I’m so proud of everything you do, whether it be a movie role or TV or a song lyric or a freaking omelet. I’m sorry if it comes across as jealousy sometimes. Norman._

Sean glanced at his map and saw that there were only two notes left. It looked like the last one was in the bedroom, which he had assumed. The other was on the floor in the hallway, outside the bedroom. He picked it up. _Love that is not madness is not love – PEDRO CALDERON DE LA BARCA. I know sometimes our lives get crazy. I know you probably didn’t bank on getting a psycho like me when you decided to fall in love with me, but I am so damn lucky you did. Thank you so much. Norman._

Sean slowly opened the door to the master bedroom. Norman was sitting on the edge of the bed, biting at one fingernail, wearing a pair of Sean’s favorite satin pajama bottoms. He looked up at Sean hesitatingly. A note was taped to one toned bicep. Sean silently walked over and picked the note up, reading the quote out loud. There was no following explanation on the note. “Love means to love that which is unlovable; or it is no virtue at all. Gilbert K. Chesterton.” He looked down at Norman.

“Sean, I’m so fucking sorry,” Norman whispered. “I’ve been such a whiny, selfish brat. You’re so right. I’ve been lazy and jealous, and I need to ask you to forgive me.”

“Baby, there’s nothing…”

“Yes, there is. I don’t deserve how much you’ve put up with lately, and it’s gonna stop now,” Norman promised. “If I don’t have work, I’m gonna do other stuff to stay busy, including keeping this place decent for you to come home to. You’d do the same for me.”

“It’s okay,” Sean said when Norman finally let him interrupt. “Really, Norman. But this…” he waved the notes in the air. “This is so sweet…you must’ve done a lot of work…”

“Gotta love the internet,” Norman said with a grin. He stood and kissed Sean gently. “I love you so much, Sean. I just wanted you to know how much.”

“If I didn’t before, I sure do now,” Sean said, letting the notes flutter to the ground so he could cup Norman’s face in his hands and kiss him properly.

END - H


End file.
